History Repeating
by jkdg3461
Summary: Post GoF. First there was Lucius&James, now it's Draco&Harry. Both can never have the ending they want. Lucius just wants what's best for the Malfoys: that means NO POTTERS. Unfortunately, he's too late. SLASH, obviously.
1. Faded letters

**HISTORY REPEATING**

_If they do not learn from the past, one generation will follow the last, making the same mistakes over and over again…_

He knew this was happening again. He looked at the note in his hand: the resemblance was remarkable.

He'd seen many notes like this before. He had his own secret stash of similar notes in his bottom desk drawer. He recognized the tiny curl of the _h_, the lengthened stem of the _y_. He even recognized the meeting place; it was the exact same. History repeating itself in an endless vicious cycle; like father, like son…

This one wasn't as yellowed with age as the previous ones. Fifteen years had taken its toll on his most treasured possessions; but his excuse for keeping the notes was that he needed a reminder every now and then. That's what he told himself, anyway. He didn't know if he really believed it or not.

It was strange that, in a manor full of exquisite and rare items, his most prized object was a small carved box filled with tiny scrolls of yellowed parchment. The parchment itself wasn't important; it was the memories they held. This… This was painful.

He should've thrown the accursed note into the fireplace, but instead he crumpled the tiny square of parchment in his hand, the words etching and burning themselves into his mind as he dropped the screwed-up ball on the floor.

'_Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after Quidditch practice._'

He reached into his son's schoolbag and pulled out a similar note.

'_Same time and place._'

The shorthand language of lovers – how like his father he was! He tilted his head to his side, remembering. Remembering the pain, the loss that nearly destroyed him, ate him alive.

"Father?" the haughty voice echoed throughout the huge study, demanding all of his attention. "What are you doing with my schoolbag?"

"Who gave you these?" he hissed through gritted teeth, although he knew perfectly well who the writer was. He watched with satisfaction as a cloud passed over his son's arrogant face – he'd inherited all the trademark family features – and turned even paler than usual.

"It's from a – a girl," he choked out. "It's a girl from – school."

"No, it's not," his father snapped. "Who is it, really?"

"Harry Potter," he whispered. "For five months now."

Lucius, his proud, cold father, raised an arm and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you," Lucius hissed, glaring at his shaking son. Draco unconsciously put a hand up to his stinging cheek, tears welling in his grey eyes. He grabbed his schoolbag from his father and ran out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Lucius wondered how this could be happening again. It seemed like a nightmare: the supposedly irresistible Potter charm had hooked not only one, but both Malfoy men…

"_James, this has to stop."_

"_It can't stop, Lucius."_

"_I don't care, James. It has to." Lucius narrowed his eyes in a manner that would become familiar to both Potter men in two generations; father and son from the rival families._

_It was strange that, of all the boys in Hogwarts, it would be these two that ended like this: the respective captains of the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams. Lucius counted himself lucky that James noticed him during a rare and short hiatus from torturing Severus. Lucius thought that he was wonderful._

"_Can I help you, Malfoy?" James had called, glaring daggers._

"_Wizards' Duel, Potter," Lucius had replied, before he could think. If they'd stopped kissing for just a second and started dueling, James would've won. Lucius didn't want to take that chance. So, during the day, they were rivals, and at night, the most passionate of lovers._

_But now it had to end. Both boys were nearing the end of their final year at Hogwarts, and both had to go their separate ways. Unbeknownst to them, James would marry Lily Evans, and Lucius would find someone to marry – maybe a Black. Both would produce children. Both would eventually forget about their former rival. Their sons, their only children, would become the fiercest of enemies – and the fiercest of lovers. But James would never live to see his only son happy._

_But right now, they lived only for this moment, and James didn't want it to end. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy dark hair – the hair that would become one of the trademarks of the son he hadn't had yet; the son that would defeat Voldemort for the first time before his second year of existence, the son that would capture the heart of the Malfoy heir, as his father did._

"_James…" Lucius whispered. "It's for the best, I promise you."_

"_You'll have beautiful children," James whispered back. He didn't know how true this was. For now, he only knew Lucius Malfoy: his one love, his only love. His eyes threatened to overflow with unshed tears._

"_Keep in touch," Lucius said, getting to his feet. James immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him back down next to him. He leaned over and kissed him – somehow they both knew that this would be the last kiss they would ever share. He poured all that he felt into this one final bruising kiss._

_They didn't know that James would be dead within three years._

Exactly fifteen years after that fateful day, Draco sat in his room, hugging his schoolbag to his chest. His tearstains were drying on his cheeks.

It was a mistake, coming back home. It was a mistake to leave his open schoolbag sitting in the Entrance Hall, expecting a house-elf to get it. He certainly should've restrained from admitting to his father that Harry had indeed written those notes.

But by far his biggest mistake was falling in love with Harry. Vaguely he wondered how his father knew it was Harry's handwriting, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had to get back to Hogwarts as soon as he could.

He had to get back to Harry.

He didn't know what drove the unknown hand of fate that made him feel this way… But he was certainly thankful for it.

It'd all started in detention. Draco still claimed that it was Harry's fault, anyway. That part of him would never change.

"_Detention, Potter," Snape drawled, pushing his greasy hair back with barely suppressed glee._

"_What!?" Harry cried, shoving his chair back and jumping to his feet. He ignored the Mudblood's restraining hand on his arm and Draco sniggered._

_Well, it was kind of Harry's fault that his cauldron had exploded unceremoniously halfway through the lesson. Pity that it was only half-done; therefore, Weasel had only half-turned into a flamingo._

"_Nice feathers, Weasel," Draco said. "They match your hair perfectly."_

_Weasel had squawked indignantly and stalked towards Draco on his long pink legs, his wand arm shaking. Draco couldn't even stop laughing long enough to _Expelliarmus_ the ridiculous-looking pauper-flamingo._

_So maybe Harry had been right in tackling Draco to the floor in a distinctly non-sexual manner. But it didn't help that he'd gotten them both detention – a **double** detention, in his case._

_But it'd all worked out fine in the end, hadn't it?_

Draco was pulled from his reverie as the door to his room swung open silently and his father entered.

"You must stop seeing that Potter brat," he hissed, slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco could almost hear the house-elves' protests: slamming doors was _not_ a thing to be done at the Malfoy Manor. But courtesy was not exactly the first thing on Lucius' mind at this point in time.

Draco remembered the last time he'd seen Harry…

"_I can't remember the last time I saw you this beautiful."_

"_Could it have possibly been the last time you unceremoniously pulled me into your room and shagged me to within an inch of consciousness?"_

"_Could do," Draco sighed. "But you like it."_

"_No, I don't. I love it. And I love you."_

"_I have to leave tomorrow morning, you know."_

"_That's fine. It's only two weeks, Draco."_

"_Only? That's enough time for me to meet a lovely Pureblood and arrange a marriage proposal."_

"_You wouldn't dare." his green eyes had glinted dangerously in the candlelight when he'd said this. Bloody possessive Gryffindor._

"_Wouldn't I?"_

"_No, you wouldn't."_

"_And why not?"_

"_Because you love me…"_

"_When did I ever say that?"_

"_You don't have to."_

And Draco knew, he just _knew_, that he couldn't walk away from that.

"You don't understand it," Draco snapped at his father.

Lucius paused in thought; a miniscule part in the back of his mind argued that he understood more than his son did at this moment, and quite possibly ever would.


	2. The Pensieve

Draco pushed open the door to his father's study.

"Father," he called, looking around the vast room, walls lined with books and floor richly arrayed.

There was no reply. So much for apologies.

"Father?" he called again, striding to the center of the room, expensive shoes noiseless against expensive carpet.

Draco sighed and turned to go. He was distracted by a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the mirror ahead of him. He squinted and saw a sliver of silver white shining brightly from within a black cabinet to his right.

Briefly wondering why he hadn't noticed it before, he crossed the study to shut the cabinet door properly.

A shallow stone basin lay within, with odd carvings around the edge; runes and symbols that Draco did not recognize. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing that Draco had ever seen before.

Draco hesitated, then pulled his wand from inside his robes and poked the surface of the _stuff_ inside the bowl. It began to swirl very fast.

He peered inside the basin and felt a sickening lurch as he left the study to see… Himself.

With Harry.

Naked.

His first thought was, _father is __spying__ on my love life!? Ew!_

His second thought was, _wait, if I'm in the bed, what am I doing here?_

Draco looked down at himself, then at the blonde figure in the bed.

"What the hell?" he shouted. Neither of the boys in the bed noticed him.

"Look, Malfoy," Harry said. Draco's head snapped up, but Harry was talking to the Draco in the bed. This was weird. "I think –"

"Don't, Potter," the bed-Draco said. He buried his head in a cushion.

_This didn't happen_, Draco thought, watching Harry take bed-Draco in his arms and rub his back gently.

"You know this can't work out," bed-Draco whispered, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah," Harry said, cupping bed-Draco's chin. "I _want_ it to work out, but, you know… _Evans_."

_Evans?_ Draco thought. _Who the hell is Evans?_

Harry and bed-Draco shifted a little, so Harry was facing the real Draco. Then Draco – the real Draco – noticed that Harry didn't have green eyes, or a scar.

"Argh!" real-Draco screamed, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"I'm sorry, James," said the boy that Draco had thought was _him_.

Draco sat down heavily on the floor as his father, Lucius Malfoy, leaned across and kissed James Potter gently on the mouth.

Draco buried his head in his hands as their kissing got more passionate. There was silence for a few seconds and he glanced up, only to see his father's hands disappear beneath the covers.

"Oh," James said faintly.

"Meep," Draco said, pulling his robes over his head.

"James, you don't think –" Lucius started only to be cut off by another kiss.

"Yes," James said, pulling away from him suddenly.

"Really," Lucius breathed.

"No!" Draco cried.

"But what if anyone… hears?" Lucius whispered.

Draco smacked his head against the wall. _Too much information, father, thanks a whole bloody lot._

"_Silencio_," James said, waving his wand at the door.

**(A/N: Yes, you perverts, it was his wand, the wooden one, used for magical purposes! I didn't mean… Well, you know.)**

Draco swore, jumped to his feet and tried to find a way out. His father resumed kissing Harry's father as Draco slammed his fists on the door and tried to unlock the window.

"_Alohomora_!" Draco shouted at the stubbornly locked window. "_Abracadabra_! _Avada Kedavra_! Anything! Please!"

He whirled around to face the bed and instantly regretted it.

"Malfoy…"

"Potter!"

"Yes…"

A thump. "Oh, yeah. Right there!"

"Argh!" Draco yelled, clamping his hands over his eyes and vaguely wondering if he could Obliviate himself.

"More!"

Draco, having determined there was no way out of the room, curled up in a corner and blocked his ears. When the shouting died out, he looked up at the two figures lying in the bed, panting.

"Father! This is unacceptable," Draco shouted, getting to his feet and dusting off his robes. His father gave a soft sigh and leaned back against James' chest. "This is _not_ Malfoy behavior! This isn't even heterosexual behavior! You're sleeping with a…"

His voice slowly died out as he realized his hypocrisy.

"With a Potter," he finished.

**screwWeasley!Dracois****my****king!**

After the memory ended, Draco found himself unceremoniously hurled onto the floor of his father's study once more.

He contemplated what had happened at the end of the memory as he trudged down the long hallway to his room.

A girl with fiery red hair had burst into the room just as the boys had gotten dressed.

"Potter, what're you doing in Malfoy's room?" she'd said, slowly coming in and shutting the door behind her.

"The usual, Evans," Lucius had said. Her eyes had gone wide.

"You two need to cut down on your Wizards' Duels," she'd said haughtily. "One of these days, someone is going to get hurt."

"We wouldn't want that, would we, Evans?" James'd said, winking at her.

After the door closed behind her, the two boys looked at each other, grey eyes meeting hazel.

"She definitely heard us," Lucius said. "Because you put a _silencing charm_ on the _door_."

"So?" James said flippantly, leaning in to kiss Lucius again. Draco's stomach had contracted when their lips met.

"So," Lucius had said when his lips were free for talking once more. "You should've done a privacy spell. You know, if you ever had a son, he'd be rubbish at magic."

Draco sniggered to himself as he shut the door of his room and pulled out a piece of parchment…


	3. Mistaken identity

**A/N:** Ack. It's taken me so long to update. Stupid school. Stupid everything.

Gahh, this is a bit corny.

**butwhatifyouweretheoneforme**

"That is by far the most disgusting thing I have ever heard," he said, attempting to push away the blonde wrapped tightly around his chest. "But it's not really enough to necessitate an emergency trip to Wiltshire. Do you have any idea how many school rules – no, screw school rules, how many _laws_ I broke, flying down here?"

"Not enough to stop you from coming, apparently," Draco said, his voice muffled in Harry's shirt. "Because, if you really cared about the law, you wouldn't've come. Right?"

Harry's chest rose and fell in a reluctant sigh.

"Yeah," he conceded, "But I thought you were _dying_, or You-Know-Who raped your cat, or something. You sounded – frantic. I freaked out; of course I came. Ron is probably wondering where I am."

"Let him wonder some more," Draco whispered. "It'll be _excellent_ exercise for his speck of a brain."

"Come on, Draco," Harry pleaded. "It's been _one_ day! I said goodbye to you yesterday, and now I'm just rushing here to see you? This isn't healthy."

"You said you loved me."

"I _do_," Harry's arms tightened around Draco's waist. "You know I do."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"Because I have to!"

"Please?" Draco looked up, his chin resting on Harry's collarbone.

Harry turned his face away. Draco pouted.

"_Fine_," Harry huffed.

"Not if you don't want to," Draco said, releasing him and turning to the still-open window.

"I do."

"Say it," Draco snapped to the grey sky. Damn, if Harry'd had an accident on the way… Draco shuddered.

"What?" Harry's voice was right in his ear.

"Say it." Draco turned and crossed his arms defiantly.

"Say _what_?" Their noses were mere millimeters apart, and Harry was having trouble keeping his voice steady.

"Say that you want to stay here with me."

"…I _want_ to stay here with you. Better?"

"Much," Draco said, launching himself at Harry.

**.-xXXx-.**

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

"Happy?"

"More than I've ever been in my entire life."

**.-xXXx-.**

"I don't even _have_ a cat," Draco said absently, stroking Harry's hair.

**.-xXXx-.**

As darkness loomed on the horizon, Draco jumped off the bed, grabbed Harry's hand and said, quite seriously, "Let me show you round."

"_What_?" Harry exclaimed, stunned.

"You've never been here before."

"Nor have I ever come here before."

"Did you just then?" Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and knotting his Gryffindor tie with great difficulty.

"Couldn't you tell?" Harry pulled his jumper over his head and grinned at Draco.

"There you go," Draco said, dragging Harry towards the door. "There's a first time for everything."

**.-xXXx-.**

Ten minutes later, they were standing at the end of a long hallway with portraits on the wall and expensive carpet on the floor. A massive marble statue stood two meters away from them.

"That statue there is of Scorpius Malfoy," Draco whispered. "My great-grandfather times about seventeen."

"_Scorpius _Malfoy?" Harry echoed. "That's a – _unique_ – name."

Draco merely shrugged. "Anyway, this is the portrait hall. Don't talk too loud, otherwise you'll wake something up."

Suddenly there were footsteps at the other end of the hall. Draco's grey eyes widened to saucer-like proportions.

"And who's that?" Harry asked, turning to Draco.

"That – well – that would be Lucius Malfoy, my father," Draco said, paling a shade or thirteen. "Quick, hide."

Draco immediately darted forwards and ducked behind the statue of Scorpius Malfoy. Harry followed him, but tripped over the edge of the carpet and fell flat on his face, his glasses skittering meters away and his hair flying everywhere. Draco swore under his breath.

Lucius froze. Then he quickly strode forward, lit wand in hand, and said, "Who's there?"

Despite Draco's frantic gestures, Harry attempted to say 'Harry Potter,' but when one's face is buried in three inches of carpet, it's fairly hard to do so.

"Potter," Lucius heard.

His eyes widened in shock as he walked to the other side of the statue and gasped. Draco sprinted to the other side, picking up Harry's glasses as he went. Harry knelt on the carpet, trying to fix his hair.

What Lucius saw was a teenage boy kneeling on the carpet, his thin face contorted with concentration as he tried to flatten his hair, but only succeeded in making it messier. And those hands were the hands that once held him as the rain poured down outside… And those arms were the arms of a seasoned Quidditch player… And those eyes were not squinting into the darkness, looking for Draco, but looking at Lucius with love…

"_James_…" Lucius breathed. "James Potter…"

"Oh, shit," Draco hissed from behind the statue.

**.-xXXx-.**

**A/N:** Raise your hand if you understood the "you've never been here before"-"nor have I ever come here before" exchange! (:


End file.
